


A Siren's Call

by heartstone



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Literally This Is Just Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 21:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14777549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartstone/pseuds/heartstone
Summary: He stood, poised under the arch of black granite, unmoving so as to listen for just a moment longer before the enchanting music finished in diminuendo chorus. The door was open and from it issued thin, dark tendrils which swirled around the vaulted roof of smoothed stone, spreading its unfurling warmth down the long subterranean corridor and hazing the soft scarlet glow of the chamber beyond. The velvet smoke curled around Him as if to beckon, moving in time to the sensual melody as if to draw Him further into the depths.***Mairon calls to Him from afar.





	A Siren's Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sigurfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigurfox/gifts).



He stood, poised under the arch of black granite, unmoving so as to listen for just a moment longer before the enchanting music finished in diminuendo chorus. The door was open and from it issued thin, dark tendrils which swirled around the vaulted roof of smoothed stone, spreading its unfurling warmth down the long subterranean corridor and hazing the soft scarlet glow of the chamber beyond. The velvet smoke curled around Him as if to beckon, moving in time to the sensual melody as if to draw Him further into the depths.

Melkor closed His eyes and let the dense air caress Him, let Himself savor the Theme; devour the notes that betrayed this siren’s every wish in a sarod’s deep and husky tune, gliding effortlessly between sultry notes of soft temptation to bold wantonness, shifting to a trill that resonated with His very Fëa. The trill crescendoed, trembling with a sustained timbre of impatience and longing which disturbed the lazy swirling of air with a rush of heat. Quickly the music fell to a subtle hum, a captivation that drew Him in closer, drifting soundlessly to the awaiting door. . .

The wispy smolder thinned more within the room, and parted for Him as He entered as if knowing He would want nothing to bedim His view. The vault of the corridor hadn’t been too high, but the roof now soared to immense heights, so much so that under the dome of rock it felt like one was under the sable of the nighttime sky. But the stars that twinkled above were not of Varda’s make; their silvery twinkle was the coruscating of the smoke as it rose through great air shafts into the bitter cold of the surrounding lands- or it was the shifting light as it played on the facets of many jewels.

And many jewels there were embedded into the diorite walls of the chamber, deposited long ago and sculpted over centuries; rings of stunning ivory, of ashen grey and pale azuline, and of jet black that glittered like the brilliant nebulae of distant galaxies. Peridot and chrysolite olivines smoothed from weathering cast a jade light, amethysts seemed more vibrant under the scrutiny of the dim glow, and chalcedony mica in aventurine shimmered.

But in the centre of the cavern, under the lofty dome, there was a pool encircled by cressets of fire that flung their blaze carelessly onto the walls to dance on the crystals. Yet this pool was not of water, and long it had seethed below the surface, modest yet ever-burning. It was filled with magma, and had been for ages uncounted, exsanguinating Arda’s lifeblood drop by drop of haematic crimson. It swirled deep sangria, shifting to a tar-black and gushing orange flame from its surface as if in time to some slow pulse.

Melkor saw none of this, for His eyes had locked onto the siren that had called to Him from afar, gazed breathlessly at that single aurum flame, petit yet content within the pool.

He stood not far from its edge, nearly waist deep, swaying languorously in the thick flow of magma that encompassed him like a skirt of luminous poppy-red, soporifically trailing from his lower back like droplets of honey, curving along the shape of his ass before hissing back into the pool. His hands were in his hair, playing coquettishly with the ringlets that gave a similar amber glow to the flames around him. Melkor’s eyes trailed along the taut muscles of his back and the shadows that fell along them as he pretended not to demonstrate the way they moved under gleaming bronze.

Mairon laughed softly, a husky sound deep within his chest and throat. Melkor had stopped just a few paces from the pool’s brink, watching the Maia release his hair to fall down his back between the alluring press of his shoulder blades. He turned around in the pool, leisurely, making sure to sink down enough so only the taper of his hip bones could be seen above the surface. Melkor swallowed thickly, as if if the magma of the pool was stuck in His throat.

Always he was beautiful, and yet. . . at the moment the Dark Vala was at a loss of words. He was flushed with rose blush and his gold freckles shimmered like the jewels in the diorite walls of the cavern, giving him a divine luster. It was the shine of polished copper, as always, that framed his face in heavy curls, and his eyes peered from under fair lashes, sly and piercing. And as always, he was draped in gold.

With the heat of the chamber and that which radiated off of the magma he was half-submerged in, the gold that decorated him had melted onto his skin. His earrings dripped down along his jaw and along the hollow of his neck, pooling in between his collarbones. The stud he always kept under the plush of his lower lip had melted down his chin to join the trails of his earrings down his neck. The bars through his nipples left rivers of gold down his chest, dipping over the forge-toned muscle of his abdomen. His eyes followed the trail of gold that shone in his navel and fell from his effeminate waist down the centre of his narrow hips.

He quivered, unable to stop the dull pulse of arousal and throbbing pressure that settled itself between His legs. Mairon smiled, knowing the effect he always had on Him, knowing that the swaying of his hips that disturbed the magma only stirred within Him something more potent than meagre emissions of flame.

Mairon’s smile only broadened, revealing sharp, white teeth before he abruptly made a pout and feigned bashfulness by hiding behind a loose ringlet that had fallen over his eye. He fumbled with that fallen strand, twisting it around his finger like he did when trying to seem timid- even though Melkor knew for certain that his seduction was deliberate and effective.

“Such lovely music I made for thee, and thou only gaze from afar? Thou tease me cruelly.”

His voice was cloying, low, and rich: every word pronounced carefully, every consonant rolled in a silken lilt. It controlled Him- Melkor stepped into the pool without hesitation, His flowing black robes burning as He sunk into the molten rock, the fire trailing upwards to His broad shoulders until- by the time He reached the Maia- nothing was left of them but soot on the Vala’s pale, smooth skin. The magma was difficult to walk through, like wading through molasses. Nevertheless, nothing could keep Him from reaching Mairon’s spot in the pool and it parted angry vermillion around His chiseled thighs.

Mairon purred like a well-pleased panther, reaching out his arms and lightly tracing along His powerful muscle, which twitched at his feathery caress. He was taller, and stood in the basin only submerged just above His knees, and the Maia suddenly wasn’t so bashful anymore, eyeing His obvious arousal with a voracious lust. His hands continued to follow the naturally the sculpted curves of His abdominals, over His chest to brush by His nipples, then around His neck to finally bring Him closer, hunching Him down for a kiss.

Melkor moaned against his lips, His arms wrapping around his slim form to pull him upward and flush against Him. Mairon let Him, the magma sloshing around them reluctantly as he was pulled up out of the pool, which wanted to keep him within its depths and pulled back firmly. He pressed his own growing need against Melkor’s stomach, but did not wrap his legs around His hips, wanting to provoke and maintain his control, knowing His attentions would not linger long at their kisses.

In spite of this, Mairon poured all his passion into their embrace, tilting his head and sliding his lips perfectly against the Vala’s own, lavishing the sensual curves of His top lip and tracing its boundary with his tongue. Once Melkor tightened His hold, desiring to deepen and lead the kiss, the Maia broke their embrace, gripping His hair and pulling it to strain the long lines of His slender neck and forcing His lips to part with a delighted whine. He kissed the corner of His lip and sucked on the protrusion of His collarbone, leaving a livid welt.

The magma hissed as Mairon slipped from His grasp, lithe and smooth. He smiled temptingly again, turning and sinking into the magma so that his nudity was shielded by the fervent glow, kicking off the bottom and chuckling at Melkor’s dumbstruck look as he glided calmly, using strength such only as an Ainu has to push himself through the honey-thick liquid rock. He surfaced at the far end and displayed the rivers of magma that dripped along his skin before Melkor growled and chased after him, clearly as flushed and angry as the magma. He only grew more frustrated when the pool hindered His movements, and Mairon was about to pretend to be offended by His lack of haste when He disappeared in a scattering of shadow.

Melkor did not reappear so quickly. He circled Mairon, who was now the dumbstruck one, turning confused in the magma that graced his hips, struggling to see where Melkor’s shadows flitted in the dark chamber and the low-hanging exhaust of liquid rock and mineral. Disembodied, Melkor tickled the nape of His Maia’s neck, rapidly cooled some spots of the bath into glossy obsidian and andesite and garnet to distract him, then re-formed, kissing him and swallowing his gasp of surprise as He pushed him down against the ground and out of the magma.

Mairon squirmed under Him, but Melkor was unyielding and repaid him in kind, leaving bruises along his throat. It was a shame the Maia had dived under the magma, for the golden trails had dissolved into the pool and left nothing behind, nothing but his soft skin. Mairon’s ass was flush to the rim of the bath, and He pressed Himself intently between his legs, which fell over the rim of the bath and dipped into the still bubbling magma. Melkor Himself still stood in it, and its hold around His thighs gave Him leverage.

Melkor’s body was cool despite the searing heat all around them, and He pressed as much of Himself against him as He could, leaning over his straining muscle. His cool touch sent sparks along Mairon’s skin pleasantly, like stellate ice crystals, and he shuddered, trying to hide it from Melkor’s prying eyes, darker and more stormy than usual, heavy-lidded. He was merciless, suckling on a hardened nipple and tracing the long taper of Mairon’s svelte body, rubbing His erection alongside his own.

The Vala was certainly not amused with his teasing. Mairon mewled at a nip to his skin and clutched His silky hair between his fingers, urging Him on with a slow rocking of his hips. That swelling, tingling tempo demanded to be noticed, and Mairon’s legs instinctively wrapped around His hips to encourage the movements that sent electric thrills up his spine. Melkor paused, removing Himself from the nipple He had unsparingly pleasured, breathing heavy.

In an instant he was flipped onto his stomach and roughly shoved against the hot, smooth rock. He groaned with delight and pushed against Melkor eagerly, knowing he would be treated to the Vala’s _impatience._ Melkor dragged lightly His nails along his sides, brushing his sparking hair aside and kissing each little bump of his spine until He reached the dimples on his lower back.

Melkor was not surprised to find the Maia had already prepared himself, merely teased him, rocking the titanium plug and enjoying the way he struggled to control the sparking of his eyes and hair from the pleasure as it slipped in and out. But Mairon was right- He had grown impatient, and quickly the plug was replaced.

Both of them moaned and shuddered, and Melkor set a quick, demanding pace, one that no longer had a care for teasing. He pressed His chest into the Maia’s back and held his hips down firmly as He thrust, and Mairon pushed back in time to each intrusion, wanting only to feel utterly full. His breathing grew shaky and his palms pressed flat on the stone, finding no fissures in the rock to grip onto as he was rhythmically forced against it and against the hand that had taken hold of his erection. The magma sloshed around Melkor’s thighs, hissing and firing up as His movements steadily grew more frantic, losing its tempo.

A wave of heat curled in Melkor’s stomach, no longer able to think of anything but Mairon’s smooth skin; the warmth of his body and that which He plunged into, hotter than the magma, tight and clenching around Him as if reluctant to let Him leave. His ears were deaf to all but the faint grunts from His own lips and those whimpers from the Maia as he was pounded ruthlessly into the stone, moaning with each thrust, each pump of Melkor’s fist over his stiff length, and each bruise of his hip that mixed aching pain into his deepening sea of pleasure.

Melkor buried His face into his back knowing He was close, knowing the Maia was close by the incomprehensibility of his pleads and the fire that lit under his skin, pulsing with a golden glow. He kissed the skin near to His mouth, stroking His thumb over the Maia’s engorged flesh, and giving a few final deep thrusts before Mairon spasmed under Him in sublime bliss, his cry echoing in the dome, body taut, dragging Melkor over the edge with him, buried deep within the Maia’s heat.

They lay there like that for a while, before Melkor slipped from him and pulled Himself out of the pool to lay at his side. Mairon devilishly smiled back up at Him, showing the glinting of his teeth. Melkor kissed his forehead.

“Art thou satisfied little siren?” He asked, soft and low.

Mairon hummed against His skin, wrapping his arms around His neck and pressing himself against the span of His chest. He cuddled up to Him and gave Him another one of his fake pouts, his eyes glinting dangerously. _Insatiable,_ Melkor thought, but not entirely disappointed. The Maia was, after all, as vigorous as the flames that burst from the surface of the magma.

“Not yet,” Mairon answered, as if to confirm His thoughts, and as He was dragged into the pool again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, once again I have to say I don't really have too much experience with writing smut, but the only way to get more experience is to write! First time writing a story with literally no plot too :D I spent a long time learning about lava and volcanoes, but I'm not sure it helped much considering we can't touch it or even go near it, let alone swim in it!  
> This work's "lava pool" theme was suggested by sigurfox, who always leaves the most thoughtful comments and whose support in my writings is a treasure. I hope you like it <3  
> ***


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